


Aboulomania

by akiiteru



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Radio DJ Jean, city AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akiiteru/pseuds/akiiteru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Aboulomania- pathological indecisiveness</i>
</p><p>Jean Kirschtein hates big cities.<br/>He hates the air of unfriendliness, the never-ending flow of new stimuli, and the overpopulation. He hates the filthiness of the streets.<br/>Also, the coffee could stand to be a little cheaper.</p><p>A stranger on a bus could change his view entirely, if only Jean didn't avoid decision-making like the plague.<br/>It would be an extra help if he could talk to cute guys without spontaneously combusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Big cities sucked. 

It was difficult (and not to mention expensive) to go from place to place in one, they were smelly and crowded, they were noisy, and there was so much nonstop hustle and bustle that mental repose was a distant memory. Lights stayed on all night, carrying pepper spray was a must, and everyone behind the wheel of a car had a nasty case of road rage.

Jean Kirschtein had the misfortune of living in a city. A very large, overpopulated one at that.

Public transportation was the absolute worst, in Jean's opinion. People tried as hard as they could to avoid eye contact. Taking a seat in the front of a bus was pretty much a death sentence, since a feeble old person was bound to board, looking at your seat with pitiful longing, and it was unavoidable that you'd end up hanging on to the drop grips. Worst-case scenario: you end up on your ass in a puddle of water that was tracked in by dirty boots. 

Those things could be ignored by an experienced city-goer. 

Jean, however, was _not_ an experienced city-goer. 

He moved from a tiny town in the outskirts of a suburb. His parents were quite well off financially, but they disliked cities as much as their son did. Though it was their choice to live there, they still complained that it was a “poor neighborhood.”

Jean had been in the city for only a month. Moving there seemed like a great idea at first; it was a chance to get away from the bigoted small-town mentality that he'd been experiencing since childhood. Being the only gay person in his Catholic family, Jean needed escape.

Living in the city was the only escape he could think of.

The change of lifestyle wasn’t the only reason Jean moved, of course. He’d been hired as a DJ by a leading radio station; a job offer that could not be passed up. 

It didn’t please his parents. They were hell-bent on shoving him through medical school, setting him up with a moderately well-paying job at a hospital (as far away from their town as possible), and then never communicating with him again save for birthday and Christmas cards. 

What lovely cards those would have been.

_Dear son, we had no choice but to cut you out of the will and disown you. Being gay was your decision, so we can’t be blamed. Have fun paying for that crappy city apartment that would have been taken care of by us, if only you liked girls!_

Dear old mom and dad. _So supportive._

Instead of following their flawless plan, Jean went to a tiny college a few towns over and transformed from a grumpy, awkward teenager into a grumpy, awkward adult. 

He planned to look for a job for a few weeks (or months, or years), but he quickly became aware that he was no longer welcome in his own house. His bed was gone, and his possessions were shoved in a pillowcase, tossed haphazardly in the hallway. The centerpiece of his room was now a pool table, and a dusty arcade machine sat in the corner.

He’d been kicked out and replaced by a goddamn _game room_!

Jean decided to drown his crushing disappointment in music, so he turned on his favorite radio station. An advertisement caught his attention.

“Do you love music? Are you a fresh-out-of-college loser who majored in something that will get you absolutely nowhere? We need you to apply to be our new DJ!”

Well, Jean was definitely a loser, and he loved music. He turned the volume up and listened closely.

The announcer gave a location to apply, and the requirements.

Just two weeks later, he was fully moved into a city apartment that was a ten-minute bus ride away from the station.

He had himself a job.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Jean nearly missed the six a.m. bus due to an alarm malfunction.

(The alarm clock ended up smashed on the sidewalk. Jean’s temper knew few limits.)

Being late meant that he had to go without coffee. 

Jean without coffee was not a functional human being.

He stepped onto the bus with his brain in a fog, and ended up dropping his fare. An elderly woman scowled at him as he fumbled through his pockets for change. Once he finished paying, the bus lurched forward and he stumbled down the aisle.

There were two open seats on the entire bus. One was beside an elderly man whose B.O. was so bad Jean could smell it from where he was standing. The other was beside a young man with his nose in a book. Jean opted for the latter.

He collapsed into the seat without giving the man a second thought. The old man with the B.O. started coughing loudly, making Jean’s caffeine-deficient head throb. He started digging through his bag to find his headphones, and eventually needed to lower his head to look inside the bag since he couldn't find them blindly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the cover of his seat neighbor’s book.

Jean sat up quickly. “Catch-22!”

The man beside him looked up, surprised by the sudden outburst.

Jean’s face flushed in embarrassment. “That’s my favorite book,” he explained. 

“Oh!” The man’s freckled face broke into a grin. “I’m really enjoying it so far! One of my friends read it in high school and just recommended it to me.”

Jean smiled back. “Do you live near here?”

Freckles nodded. “I live here in the city, actually. I graduated from college last year and I moved to an apartment.”

“Same!”

Jean started to blush again. This guy was _really_ cute, and he was grinning at Jean like he’d just won the lottery. 

After a nervous pause, Jean asked for the man’s name. 

He continued smiling brightly. “Marco. What’s yours?”

Jean stuttered out his name, probably looking like an idiot. He wasn't good at talking to people at all, and Marco’s friendly disposition was making him a lot more nervous. 

They talked for a while, mainly discussing the deeper meaning of Catch-22. Marco was surprisingly insightful, making comments that even Jean had to think over, despite reading the book many times. Jean was drawn out of his shell by Marco's amiable personality. Before he knew it, they started talking about themselves. Almost like friends would.

Jean learned that Marco majored in literature and wanted to be a writer, but he was unconfident in his abilities as an author. He managed to coax Jean into talking about his aspirations as well.

“Do you want to exchange numbers?” Marco asked, barely missing a beat. “So you can recommend some more good books to me? Also, um...”

Marco paused for a moment, biting his lip. "You seem like a cool guy."

Jean nodded and fumbled for his cell. His hands were shaking slightly at the prospect of getting Marco's number. Not that he was really _scared_ or anything, but he was an awkward person and definitely not good at making friends. Or even keeping them once he'd made them.

They traded phones. Jean entered his first name and number, and looked over to Marco, who was taking a selfie on Jean’s phone.

Marco saw Jean’s confused look. “For a contact picture,” he said matter-of-factly. He proceeded to wink at the camera. 

Jean looked out the window and made a sudden realization. “Oh, this is my stop.” 

He leaned over Marco to pull the cord, then gathered his things. The bus slowed to a halt.

“I’ll text you!” Marco called out. Jean didn't catch the look of doubt that crossed his face.

Once he was out on the street, Jean let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He’d just given out personal information to a stranger. A good-looking stranger, at that. He was bad at handling himself around aesthetically pleasing people, and knew that it was a bad idea to get close to Marco (since he was probably straight).

The radio station building was just a block away from the bus stop, leaving Jean very little time to think before arriving there. He walked inside, still distracted by the day’s events so far. 

_So distracted_ that he barely acknowledged the young man waving at him from behind the sound equipment.

“Hey, Jean, you’re late!” The man called out. “You've got two minutes to get ready.”

Jean waved his hand dismissively. “I’m ready. Fire everything up, Connie.”

Connie nodded and turned back to the equipment. Jean tossed his jacket and bag onto a chair and stepped inside the recording studio. He hummed loudly and did a few vocal exercises to make himself sound more awake.

“All right,” Connie spoke through his headset. “We’re live.”

Jean adjusted the microphone and made his introduction.

“Hello, and welcome to JK In the Morning, here on WZRL. It’s looking to be a sunny day here in the city, so remember your sunscreen if you’re going to be spending your time outside. This broadcast is brought to you by Coppertone: tan, don’t burn.”

Jean talked for a while, feeling more and more awake. Connie finally gave him a thumbs-up; the song was ready.

“We’re going to start out this morning with Electric Light Orchestra.”

The song began to play, and Jean sat down to listen. He started spacing out, thinking about Marco again. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at Marco’s contact picture. The smiley, winking face stared back at him. Jean really knew nothing about Marco, except that he liked reading (to some extent, anyway) and he was very friendly. He could be a serial killer, for all Jean knew. Except serial killers weren’t usually that nice. Or cute. 

The lyrics of the song playing floated through Jean’s head. He started mouthing the words unconsciously.

 

_Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why you had to hide away for so long._

 

He was tempted to text Marco during his break, but he thought it would seem too desperate and creepy. 

 

_Where did we go wrong?_

_Hey there, Mr. Blue, we’re so pleased to be with you._

_Look around, see what you do. Everybody smiles at you._

 

Connie gave Jean a funny look through the viewing window. He wasn't the type to space out, especially on the job. He blamed it on the lack of coffee, but the real blame probably belonged to Marco.

As the song ended, Jean shoved his phone back in his pocket and leaned towards the mic. 

“That was Mr. Blue Sky, by Electric Light Orchestra.”

 

He went on normally for the rest of the day. When his lunch break came around, Connie interrogated him.

“What’s with you, Jean? You’re totally spacing.”

Jean pushed it aside as “nothing.”

Connie didn't buy it. “You met a guy, didn't you?”

Jean gulped. Connie knew him too well. “It’s not serious or anything. I don’t technically _want_ it to be, I mean, maybe I do…”

“Dude,” Connie said calmly. “It’s okay if it’s serious. You haven’t been with anybody since that guy in eighth grade, I think it’s about time you dated someone else.”

With a sigh, Jean agreed. “You’re a dumbass, but you give good advice sometimes.” He punched his friend lightly on the arm and smiled. “Now stop quizzing me and let me go eat, I’m fucking starving.”

 

Jean stopped for lunch at Spud’s Diner, a bright and friendly place that was frequented by young adults and college students. There was a long line waiting for a table, but once the blonde woman directing people to tables saw Jean, she led him to a one near the kitchen. 

“Thanks, Christa.” Jean sat down and nodded at the short woman, who smiled back at him and rushed away. The one-person table was reserved for him on Mondays, since, without fail, he always visited the diner that day.

It took only a few minutes for Jean’s waitress to arrive at his table. She flicked her brown ponytail to the side and pulled out a notepad.

“What’s it gonna be, caballo?”

Jean rolled his eyes at the nickname. “A deluxe burger, hold the tomato, a Dr. Pepper, and onion rings. I should think you’d memorize my order by now, Sasha.”

Sasha chewed on her pen cap without writing anything down. She turned the pad of paper around to reveal Jean’s order already scribbled out.

“I was just making sure you hadn't decided to break routine. Those burgers are fattening, you know.”

Jean scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Besides, I’m probably the most indecisive person in existence. Having a routine keeps me sane.”

Sasha chuckled. “I’ll put your order in right away. And I’ll tell Ymir that you’re here.”

“Oh, no,” Jean groaned in mock-despair. “She’ll overcook my burger again!” 

Ymir, the diner’s cook, didn't really like Jean when they first met, but they had too many mutual friends to not become at least acquaintances. She still enjoyed messing with him whenever she could.

Jean’s meal arrived a short while later, with his burger grilled to perfection. He ate quickly and neatly, polishing off everything on his plate (except for the coleslaw that came with the burger; coleslaw was a crime against good food). 

As he finished his drink, Jean found his mind wandering back to Marco. It was like he was suddenly obsessed with the guy. He reminded himself of the likelihood that Marco was totally straight, and possibly even weirded out by gay guys. Should Jean not tell him the truth?

He was startled out of his thoughts quickly.

“Eleven dollars and sixty-five cents,” Sasha announced, handing him the bill.

“Oh, shit, I've only got a twenty.” Jean pulled the tattered bill from his wallet. “Just keep the change, I don’t feel like carrying a bunch of coins around. Consider it a generous tip.”

Sasha grinned. “You’re the best, Horse Face! Tell Connie I said ‘hi,’ why dontcha?”

Jean left the diner feeling relaxed. He came off as an antisocial asshole most of the time, but he really did enjoy spending time with his close friends. It was comforting to know that there were people he could trust, since most of the caretakers in his life cast him out and thought he was disgusting.

 

The rest of the day was smooth sailing. When Jean’s next broadcast was over, he helped Connie set up sound equipment for future talk show guests. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the unsettling feeling in his mind was gone. He walked out of the building, chatting with Connie until they had to split ways. 

The bus ride back to his apartment was mostly uneventful. Jean sat beside an older woman with a young girl in her lap, who kept sticking her tongue out at him. When Jean stood up at his stop, the girl waved. He felt a smile come over his face. It quickly morphed into a grimace when he saw who was boarding the bus.

“Jaeger.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this over the weekend, but I was at Anime Boston the whole time. THE ATTACK ON TITAN ENGLISH DUB WAS GREAT!!! I barely made it into the premier, haha. You probably don't care though so let's get on with the fic!

“Hey, Jean,” Eren sneered, tugging at the bottom of his “U MAD BRO?” t-shirt. “It’s been a while.”

“Five years,” Jean said icily. “I see you haven’t changed in the slightest.”

“I would agree, but if anything you look _more_ like a horse!” Eren burst out laughing at his own joke and pushed Jean aside. 

“I’ve got a party to go to,” he proclaimed arrogantly. “So get out of the way and stop holding us up.”

The dark-haired girl standing beside Eren put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to keep up with the rivalry anymore. You’re adults now.” She sighed when Eren rolled his eyes, and gave Jean a small wave.

Jean waved back. Mikasa, Eren’s sister, was probably solely responsible for keeping Jean and Eren from killing each other. She was beautiful, smart, and good at just about everything she did. Jean had a slight crush on her during his freshman year of high school, making her one of the only girls he’d liked in his life. He would still admit that she was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever met. 

He couldn't reminisce for very long, since the bus was about to drive away from his stop. He wanted to ask Mikasa why she and Eren were getting on from there, since they didn't live in the area, but he had to rush off of the bus without another word. 

Jean stepped out onto the sidewalk, fuming. That Jaeger asshole had tormented him throughout high school, and now Jean had the misfortune of coming across him in his own neighborhood. 

His apartment was only a few blocks away. When he reached the doors covered in peeling red paint, he tried to push Eren out of his mind and have a relaxing night. 

Once inside, he was met by an “OUT OF ORDER” sign on the elevator. _Fucking wonderful._ His ‘relaxing night’ would begin with a walk up ten flights of grungy stairs. And Jean wasn't in shape at _all_.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jean was trudging down the hallway of the tenth floor. By the time he reached the door labeled 1022, his breath had returned for the most part. He pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and burst inside the dimly-lit entryway of his apartment.

It wasn't exactly high-class living. Most of the lights were just bare bulbs controlled by a pull chain. The furniture was covered in dust, and ten-year-old stains marred the couch’s dull floral pattern. The carpet was worn all the way through to the concrete floor in places.

Still, Jean had tried to spice up the place. An ornate coffee table sat in front of the couch. The centerpiece of the kitchen was a stainless steel, high-powered microwave with a million different settings. It was only used for TV dinners and popcorn, but still, it was one of the best microwaves that someone on a limited budget could buy. 

Jean started preparing a box of macaroni and cheese. As he waited for the water to boil, he took out his phone and began typing a message to Marco. He figured that enough time had passed for texting him to not seem creepy.

_“hey man”_

There. That was very heterosexual. 

Jean finished making the mac and cheese while he waited for Marco’s reply. He stirred the cheese powder, milk, and butter in, sat down on the couch, and started to eat it straight out of the pot. That meant fewer dishes. Besides, he didn't have to impress anyone by eating off of a plate.

His phone beeped loudly. He took it out and looked at the text he just received.

_“Hi, Jean! How was your day?”_

The exclamation point made Jean nervous. Marco was starting to seem like the type to be way too enthusiastic about everything.

_“good. work was cool. hbu”_

Jean worried that he was being too informal, but Marco didn't seem to mind.

_“My day was great! Where do you work?”_

_“radio station. it’s on 45th street.”_

They talked for a while, getting to know each other. Jean found out where Marco grew up, a town called Jinae; where he went to college, a large university near his town; and where he lived in the city, an apartment near the art museum, which Jean recognized as a rich and snooty neighborhood. 

It was getting late at that point, and Marco said that he was going to bed. Jean bid Marco a good night, smiling to himself. He got up and tossed the empty macaroni pot into the sink. The clock on the microwave read 1:24. Jean figured that he had time to watch some television.

He turned on Animal Planet and half-watched the show that was on; something about fish tanks. Before long, the glaring brightness of the television gave him a headache. He closed his eyes, planning to rest for a few minutes and then go to bed. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Jean opened his eyes blearily as he woke up, and was met by blinding sunlight. He realized quickly that he’d fallen asleep on the couch with the television still on. He reached for the remote with a groan, turning off the TV as a puppy bounded happily across the screen. 

Jean checked the time on his phone. 10:55. He had a moment of panic, until he realized that it was a Tuesday and he didn't have to work. 

He opened up his laptop and logged on to Skype. Immediately, a message appeared.

_overeaters_anonymous: Connie tells me you have a big gay crush_

Jean rolled his eyes. His personal life always seemed to become common knowledge among his friends.

_staygold_ponyboy01: i cant tell him anything without you finding out -_-_

_staygold_ponyboy01: are you two dating yet or what_

_overeaters_anonymous: nah, i only date guys with hair_

_overeaters_anonymous: anyway…_

_overeaters_anonymous: tell me the deets_

_staygold_ponyboy01: we met on the bus_

_staygold_ponyboy01: his name is marco and he lives near the art museum_

_overeaters_anonymous: he sounds rich_

_staygold_ponyboy01: that’s what im afraid of_

_overeaters_anonymous: WOAH WAIT A MINUTE_

_overeaters_anonymous: a rich kid named Marco?_

_overeaters_anonymous: i think i've heard of him_

_staygold_ponyboy01: from where?????_

_overeaters_anonymous: i don’t remember_

_overeaters_anonymous: maybe from Reiner_

_overeaters_anonymous: he knows everybody_

_staygold_ponyboy01: ill message him_

_staygold_ponyboy01: thanks sasha_

_overeaters_anonymous: no prob!_

Jean was hesitant to message Reiner, since he wasn’t really the type to keep anything to himself. If Eren found out about the whole Marco thing, Jean would surely never hear the end of it.

But he was desperate enough to risk it, so he clicked on Reiner's contact name.

_staygold_ponyboy01: do you know anyone named marco bodt_

It took a few minutes for Reiner to message back. 

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: I think so…_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: freckles? dark hair? kinda cute?_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: nice ass?_

_staygold_ponyboy01: DUDE_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: yeah I know him_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: why do you want to know?_

_staygold_ponyboy01: just curious_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: LOL you’re so gay Jean_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: how did you meet him?_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i sat next to him on the bus yesterday and we started talking_

_staygold_ponyboy01: he gave me his number_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: just yesterday?!_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: you’re hopeless_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: anyway, I’ve gotta go_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: smell ya later_

What a charmer.

The very moment Jean shut his laptop, his phone beeped obnoxiously. He considered ignoring it.

It was fortunate that he didn't, since the message was from Marco.

_“Are you working today?”_

Texting back was nerve wracking. He considered saying yes, just to avoid feeling obligated to meet up. It wasn’t that he didn't want to see Marco, but he knew that he’d get stressed out and act awkward and embarrass himself. His hands defied him and typed out a response immediately.

_“nope. are you?”_

_“Yeah, I’m at work right now. There’s nobody else here and I’m lonely :(”_

Oh shit. There wasn’t any backing out at that point.

_“i can come pay you a visit. where are you?”_

That was too eager. 

Marco would get weirded out and say “never mind!” in that painfully cheerful way of his.

The message that came wasn’t what Jean expected, in fact, it was far worse.

_“1890 Pine Ave.”_

Jean raced down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk before he could chicken out. 

Life must have hated him. The bus he needed to take closed its doors the moment he stepped out of the apartment building, and it drove off before he could react.

“Fuck,” Jean muttered. He’d have to take a cab.

Cabs were the absolute _pits_. Jean had only ridden in one twice, and both times the drivers smelled like cabbage and there were mysterious brown stains on the upholstery. Not to mention how expensive it was.

Jean waved hesitantly at one of the dingy yellow monstrosities swarming the busy street. It pulled up to the sidewalk, a cloud of exhaust sputtering out into the air. 

Jean collapsed onto the fake leather back seat, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts. 

“Where are you heading?” the driver asked.

Jean froze. _He knew that voice._

The driver turned around and Jean nearly fainted.

 

Erwin Smith.

_Erwin goddamn Smith._

The man that Jean looked up to as a child. One of the most famous radio personalities of the decade. The reason Jean became a DJ.

He was sitting in the same car as _Erwin Smith._

“Dude!” Jean exclaimed loudly. “I used to listen to your show!”

Erwin looked surprised for a moment, then grinned. “I don’t meet many fans anymore.”

Jean gave him the address of where he was going, and continued ranting like an idiot. “I listened to your station every Saturday morning in middle school. I might still have the poster of you I ordered online. Actually, I’m a DJ now because of you! How come you’re not on the radio anymore?”

“I got tired of it,” Erwin sighed. “I had an ‘I can become a doctor or a lawyer or something that would make my parents proud’ phase. Turns out it was too late. So now I’m a deadbeat who drives smelly, drunk people around for low pay.”

Jean sat in awkward silence. It wasn’t every day that his childhood idol confided his problems in him.

Erwin laughed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry that I’m ranting to a complete stranger. You must think I’m quite strange now. This is where I’m dropping you off, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Jean said as the cab pulled to a stop. “And, uh, I have sort of the same problem. The whole ‘making your parents proud’ thing. It sucks.”

He pulled a few bills from his wallet and handed them to Erwin. “Keep the change.”

Erwin hesitated before taking the money. “You don’t need to-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Jean was out of the cab.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Jean found himself standing in front of a small store. The front was painted dark blue, with little specks of shimmery white scattered like stars across it. The sign above the door read “Galaxy Bagels.” 

Jean pushed on the door labeled “Pull” twice before he successfully made it inside. The bell above the door made a tinkling sound, making Jean’s entrance not quite as discreet as he would have preferred.

A loud crash came from what must have been the back room. 

“I’ll be right there!” A tired voice called out.

Marco appeared moments later, looking frazzled. He smiled brightly at the sight of Jean.

“Hi! Sorry to make you come all this way, but there haven’t been many customers today and I’m all alone since my shift partner is sick. I really hope you aren't a psychopath, because you seem like a cool guy even though I've only known you for a day. You’re kinda weirded out, aren't you? Sorry.”

Marco sounded as nervous as Jean felt. He was fidgeting with the ties of the deep blue apron he had on, and his face was tinged pink.

Jean waved off his concern. “It's cool.”

He berated himself almost immediately. _‘It's cool’? Really, Jean? You barely know this guy and you’re acting like you've been friends forever. Try to be at least a little more formal!_

Jean tried to think of something normal to say. He could ask about the weather, or maybe about books. Small talk. Get-to-know-each-other talk.

“Could I have a bagel?”

_Wow. Nice one._

“Sure!” Marco answered cheerfully. He stepped behind the counter. “Let me guess, toasted poppyseed with cream cheese.”

…

Jean’s mouth dropped open. “That’s exactly what I want. How did you know that?”

Marco laughed. “Lucky guess. Well, sort of. You’re wearing khaki shorts. That seems to be a common theme with people that like cream cheese. And with that haircut, you’re probably kind of a hipster, so a plain bagel wouldn't work for you. You just seem like the poppyseed type. Also, you’re wearing a Megadeth t-shirt, so you obviously like your bagels toasted.”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or scared,” Jean said with his eyebrows raised.

Marco giggled. He fucking _giggled_ and it was so cute, Jean had to look away for a minute. He wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into.

Marco handed him his bagel moments later. Jean pulled out his wallet, but Marco waved him off. 

“You don't need to pay, don’t worry.”

Jean shrugged and put his wallet back in his pocket. He stood by the counter, eating his bagel and chatting with Marco, until the soft jingling of the door bell interrupted them. 

“Mina!” Marco called out, waving at the young woman who had just entered the shop. “She works here with me,” he added to Jean quietly. 

Mina was short, and sported two small pigtails. She waved back at Marco and looked with confusion at Jean.

“Are you guys friends?” she asked brightly. 

Marco nodded. “This is Jean. He’s a DJ, on the radio.”

Mina looked at Jean with heightened interest. “That’s cool.”

The way Marco was almost _bragging_ about him made Jean flustered. He noticed suddenly that there was a glob of cream cheese on his face. As discreetly as possible, he grabbed a napkin from the counter and wiped it off. 

“Well, my shift is over now,” Marco said, stepping out from behind the counter. “Do you want to go somewhere for lunch?”

‘Go somewhere for lunch’ sounded a lot like ‘go on a date’ to Jean, and he started feeling nervous yet again.

"I don't know, that seems like something that friends would do." 

Jean looked over at Marco and was surprised at the frown on his face. 

"We're friends, aren't we?" Marco asked softly.

Jean gulped. "Shit, I mean, yeah! If you want to be. I just thought, um-"

They walked out onto the sidewalk together while Jean was still stuttering like an imbecile. 

"Jean," Marco began. "If you want to be friends, then we're friends. I'm sorry that I was so abrupt about everything, I just..." 

He sighed. "I just really wanted to get to know you." 

Jean's face was on fire. "No, no, it's fine! I want to get to know you, too. I'm not that great at talking to people, so making friends doesn't exactly come naturally to me." 

Marco looked relieved at Jean's words. "So, where do you want to eat, then?"

_Shit._ It was a hard decision. Going to a place like McDonald’s would be too… friendly. But an overly fancy place would be awkward. 

Jean gestured the Chinese restaurant down the street. “Want to get takeout?”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Twenty minutes later, Jean and Marco were eating lunch on a bench in a nearby park. Jean ate his shrimp fried rice as slowly and delicately as possible, not wanting to look like a slob. Marco, however, had already finished his spring rolls and was nearly done with his messy sesame chicken. 

The day was sunny and warm. The park was busy with joggers, people walking their dogs, and groups of teenagers playing football. A young woman had an easel set up and was painting. 

“So,” Marco began, closing his empty Styrofoam food container and setting it aside, “do you have a girlfriend?”

Jean gulped. “Uh, no.”

“That was pushy,” Marco said apologetically. “Sorry. I… well, you’re really nice and good-looking-“ His voice cracked slightly at that and Jean frowned, “-I just assumed.”

Jean opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by someone approaching him and Marco.

It was the young woman who had been painting. She smiled gently. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was painting the landscape and I included you two.” She was holding her canvas, and flipped it around to show the two men.

It was beautifully painted; a blend of blue and white hues for the sky and a rich green for the grassy hills. In the center of the painting, Jean and Marco were there on the bench. The woman had gotten every detail right. Marco had his styrofoam container on his lap, and was holding a piece of chicken up to his mouth. Jean was holding his plastic fork carefully. In the painting, Jean and Marco were looking at each other and smiling happily. Jean looked closely and saw that the woman had added a pink dusting of blush to their faces. 

“Thank you!” Marco sighed at the beauty of the painting. “What’s your name? Do you have any works of yours in a gallery?”

The woman blushed. “My name is Petra. I don’t usually submit my paintings. I feel like they aren't good enough,” she admitted. 

“I think it’s amazing,” Jean commented quietly. “You should try to get this one shown in a gallery.”

Petra smiled at him. “If you're all right with that, then maybe I will.”

Marco agreed with Jean, and the woman left with a smile on her face.

“She's pretty,” Jean said hesitantly. 

Marco shrugged. “If you like that type.”

“Do you?”

Marco frowned. “I mean… I guess. You?”

Jean took a deep breath. “I'm gay.”

He cringed at Marco’s facial expression. He looked surprised, to say the least.

Marco composed himself a moment later. “Okay.”

“Are you gonna avoid me now?” Jean asked, sounding angrier than he wanted to.

“No, of course not!” Marco exclaimed, looking even more shocked than before. “That doesn't bother me at all.”

There was an awkward silence. Jean was both relieved that Marco wasn’t bothered, and disappointed because ‘that doesn’t bother me’ was a very straight thing to say. 

Marco surprised him yet again. “I don’t know about my sexuality. I've liked both men and women before, but I don’t think I've ever been in love. I'm open to pretty much anything, but I don't know what to say to my parents or friends about it.”

Jean blushed intensely against his will. “Do you, uh… do you want to go look at books together?”

It seemed a bit like an invitation for a date. Nevertheless, Marco agreed and the two men walked out of the park together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed my tumblr url by the way, it's drowningmegane now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean catches up with some old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm soooo sorry this is late; i've been super busy with school lately. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Poetry & Prose was a large bookstore on the corner of a busy city street. It was red brick, with two doors about ten feet tall. Two antique brass knockers in the shape of lion heads stood out against the dark wood of the doors. On the side of the building, there was a mural depicting the Three Musketeers fighting a large, white whale. 

Jean pulled open the heavy doors and walked inside, with Marco right behind him. 

There wasn’t a bare wall in the entire store. The bookshelves reached from floor to the ridiculously high-up ceiling, and where there weren’t any shelves there were posters and flyers. A glass chandelier hung in the center of the room. There were ladders on every set of shelves, since the ceiling was about twenty feet above the floor. 

“Wow,” Jean said in awe, taking in the sheer number of books around him. Marco hummed in agreement. 

“Hi,” a quiet voice said from above them. Jean looked up and saw a man standing on a ladder right above their heads. 

The man made his way down the ladder carefully. He was tall and lanky, and rather plain-looking. 

Marco waved at him, then turned to Jean. “Jean, this is Bertholdt. We went to college together. He owns this store.”

Bertholdt smiled in recognition at Jean. “You’re a friend of Reiner’s, right?”

Jean nodded. “He’s mentioned you before. A lot, actually.”

Bertholdt blushed at that. 

“I’m here for more recommendations, actually,” Marco commented, gazing up at the bookshelf beside him. “I really liked Catch-22.”

Bertholdt’s expression brightened. “I actually just finished a really great book. It’s called Ragtime.” 

He walked to his desk and picked up a slightly worn paperback. “E. L. Doctorow. It’s a bit strange, to say the least, but I liked it.”

He handed the book to Marco. “This copy isn’t in good enough condition to sell, so you can have it.”

Marco thanked him and turned to Jean. “Is there anything you want while we’re here?”

Jean shook his head. He and Marco left the store, bidding Bertholdt goodbye. 

When they were out on the street, there was silence between the two. Jean didn’t mind very much; he couldn’t think of anything to dicuss, and it was actually rather nice to just walk along with Marco without the pressure of conversation.

“I’m going to go visit my friend who’s sick right now,” Marco announced after a while. “I think he lives close to you, so we could stop by on the way to your apartment. If that’s all right.”

Jean nodded. “Sure, if he wouldn’t mind me being there.”

Marco dismissed Jean’s worry with a quiet laugh. “No, he’s a friendly guy. I’m sure he’ll enjoy your company.”

Jean and Marco boarded a bus a few minutes later. Jean got suspicious when Marco didn’t signal for a stop until they were pulled up at the stop right beside Jean’s apartment.

Jean followed Marco off of the bus. “Dude, this is _my_ apartment.”

Marco frowned. He looked at the large, brick building in doubt.

“This is definitely where he lives. I guess you guys are neighbors.”

“Uh, I don’t really talk to anybody else here,” Jean said sheepishly. “I’m sort of a recluse.”

The two men entered the building and got on the elevator (that was repaired at that point, thank God). Jean began to wonder if he’d seen Marco’s friend at some point, since they lived in the same building, after all. Marco stopped it at the fourth floor and led Jean to apartment number 409. He knocked once, sharply, and the door was answered almost immediately.

They were met by a cheerful man with a bright red nose and pink cheeks. He had blond hair and wore an oversized shirt with a cat wearing glasses on it. At the sight of Marco, the man grinned. 

Jean gasped, recognizing the short blond. 

“Armin?”

The man, who was indeed named Armin, looked at Jean in wide-eyed surprise. “Hey, Jean! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I live here, actually. I came with Marco, since he said he was visiting a sick friend.” Jean looked at the floor, rather embarrassed that he lived in the same building as one of his old friends and didn’t even notice. 

Armin led Jean and Marco inside and offered them tea, which both men accepted gladly. They all sat down on the plush, baby-blue couch in the center of the living room. Jean noted with some jealousy that Armin’s apartment was both bigger and better decorated than his own.

Marco looked at the two past friends. “Wow, I didn’t know that you guys knew each other! Armin and I work together. How did you guys meet?”

“We went to high school together,” Armin replied. “He and my best friend were huge rivals at the time. I tried to keep them from causing too much trouble, and I ended up befriending Jean. I also tutored him in chemistry for a while. I haven’t seen him since graduation, though!”

Jean nodded, confirming what Armin had said. “After high school, I pretty much avoided everyone, and now it’s all coming back to haunt me. How long have you lived here, Armin?”

“Oh, I just moved in two weeks ago,” the blond man answered. “I was living with my grandfather until I got the money to live on my own. I’ve been working with Marco for a couple months now, so I moved here because it would be easier to live close to the store.”

While Armin was talking, Jean suddenly remembered the fact that Eren and Mikasa were near his apartment the day before. 

Being careful not to interrupt, he waited for Armin to finish explaining everything. “Hey, do you know why Eren and Mikasa were here yesterday? I saw them on the bus.”

“Yeah, they were visiting me,” Armin said. “They live pretty far away, so I don’t see them very often. I think they were going to a party with some of their friends from college. Eren wasn’t really thrilled to see you, was he?”

Jean groaned. “Isn’t that the understatement of the year.”

“Apparently, Reiner was at the party,” Armin added. “He was going to invite you, but Eren already agreed to go and he knew that it would be trouble.”

Jean just scoffed. He wouldn’t have showed up to the party anyway, even if he was invited, and Armin probably knew that.

Marco started talking animatedly to Armin about an idea he had for their store, and Jean didn’t feel like intruding on their conversation. He took a sip of his tea, that had cooled down to just above room temperature, and watched Marco. 

The freckled man was smiling as he spoke and his eyes sparkled like talking about interior decorating was his favorite thing in the world. Marco’s mouth was stretched into a permanent grin, giving off an air of delight and warmth. Jean nearly shook his head in dismay; he was hopelessly crushing on a man he’d only known for a day.

Armin glanced over at Jean, saw him staring at Marco, and smiled to himself. Not that he was the expert on relationships, but he certainly knew a crush when he saw one. He felt a pang of worry for his friend, since he wasn’t great at handling just friendships. _God knew_ how bad he was in romantic relationships. 

Jean noticed Armin’s gaze and blushed. He hoped that he wasn’t being too obvious, but it was pointless. Jean’s specialty wasn’t exactly subtlety.

By the time Jean finished his tea, Marco was done talking.

“Thank you for the tea, Armin,” Marco said, standing and heading towards the door. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Same here. It was good to see you again,” Jean added.

Armin sneezed loudly. “Thanks, you guys.”

Marco shut the door behind him. “I guess I’ll head home now.”

Jean was running his mouth before he could stop himself. 

“Do you want to see my apartment? I mean, since we’re here and all…”

A surprised look crossed Marco’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a practiced smile. “Sure.”

Jean nearly punched himself in the face right then, because (if the short time he’d already spent with Marco was any indication) he’d say something dumb and Marco would realize what an awkward freak he really was. 

But for some reason, he got into the elevator anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments appreciated!!! 
> 
> drowningmegane.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda weird. I felt like the fic was getting too serious and emotional so this chapter is pretty much just for comedic relief. Please enjoy regardless!

Of all the bizarre things that had happened to him, Jean was sure that this one took the cake.

Everything started out normal enough. He and Marco entered his apartment after a bit of a struggle with the lock (Jean’s hands were so sweaty that he could barely hold the key). Jean warned Marco not to trip on the shoes scattered in the middle of the entryway. Marco was impressed by how Jean utilized the small space of his apartment.

Then a loud squawk came from the kitchen.

Jean turned toward the source of the noise and froze.

“Dude. _What the fuck_.”

“What is it, Jean?” Marco, who was fawning over the design of the coffee table, asked.

“There’s a turkey.”

Marco frowned. “What?”

“There’s a _turkey_ ,” Jean repeated, “in my goddamn kitchen.”

Marco turned and saw that there was, indeed, an adult turkey standing beside Jean’s refrigerator. 

It squawked again, and Jean shrieked.

The turkey cocked its head and stared at the two men, its black eyes unblinking.

“What do I do?” Jean whispered harshly. “This is really fucking weird.”

“How did it get in here?” Marco whispered back.

Jean gestured to the open window behind them. “I left it open because it was hot today. I guess I wasn’t aware that turkeys can climb fire escapes.”

Marco was quiet for a moment. “We should call a pest removal service.”

“Those cost money,” Jean said, shaking his head. “I can’t really afford that kind of thing.”

“Are we going to get it out ourselves, then?” Marco asked.

Jean was reluctant. “I don’t really want to touch it, though. What if it shits on me or something?”

Marco cringed. “Ew.”

The turkey began walking out of the kitchen. Jean ran behind the couch. Marco tried and failed to shoo the turkey away from them; instead it leaped on top of the couch. Jean crawled backwards and bumped into the coffee table. 

 

Ten minutes later, Jean and Marco were cowering in the entryway while the turkey wreaked havoc in Jean’s apartment. 

“We should call Reiner,” Jean said quietly. “He’s good at dealing with weird crap like this.”

“Do you have your phone?” Marco whispered, still watching the turkey warily.

Jean shook his head slowly. “It’s on the coffee table.”

Marco took a deep breath. “I’ll get it.”

Before Jean could protest, Marco stood and carefully approached the table. The turkey was standing on the couch and facing away from him. Marco reached for the phone slowly, wrapping his fingers around it and beginning to retreat.

The floor creaked loudly. The turkey whipped its head around and clucked.

Marco froze.

Without warning, the turkey leaped off of the couch with a screech. Marco scrambled for the entryway, tossing the phone to Jean.

Jean typed in Reiner’s number. It picked up on the third ring.

“Yo,” Reiner drawled into the receiver. He heard nothing but a faint rustling sound.

“Reiner!” Jean shouted. “Help!” A loud sound, sort of a _squawk_ , could be heard in the background.

“Huh?” Reiner held the phone closer to his ear. “What the fuck is going on?”

Jean was silent for a moment. Then Reiner heard a shriek and another voice, not Jean’s, shouting something illegible.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, unsure if Jean heard him. The phone disconnected.

 

Reiner didn’t bother to knock when he arrived at Jean’s apartment. The door was, thankfully, unlocked, and Reiner burst into the apartment with a shout.

“Are you being robbed?”

He saw and heard nothing. The apartment was seemingly empty.

He walked out of the entryway and nearly stepped on Jean and Marco, who were clinging to each other on the floor. 

Standing in front of them was a full-grown male turkey.

Reiner rolled his eyes. “Are you two serious?”

He picked the turkey up with some effort, and carried it over to the open window. It hopped out of Reiner’s arms and onto the windowsill, flicking its tail at him as if to say ‘goodbye.’ Then it began its descent down the fire escape.

Reiner turned around and looked in disappointment at Jean and Marco on the floor, still shaking in fright. 

“You two are pathetic,” he groaned. 

Jean thanked him over and over, but Reiner just brushed him off and stomped out of the apartment.

Marco sighed, collapsing on the feather-covered couch. Jean sat beside him, still breathing heavily. 

They simultaneously burst into laughter. The room was covered in downy feathers, and the couch was ripped from the turkey’s feet. It was all so _stupid_. 

“Were you actually scared?” Jean asked.

Marco nodded. “I was terrified, to be completely honest.”

Jean grinned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re one to talk!” Marco teased, grinning back.

They cleaned up the apartment together, gathering the feathers and tossing them out the window and shoving stuffing back into the couch. 

“I’d better go,” Marco said when Jean’s apartment looked halfway decent. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a more interesting experience when visiting someone’s place for the first time.”

Jean laughed. “Let’s hope the next time you come over there isn’t an elephant in here or something.”

 

\- - -

 

Jean was still sweeping feathers out from under the couch when his laptop alerted him that he had a Skype message. 

_baldisbeautiful: yo jean_

Jean brushed a few feathers out of his hair and typed a response.

_staygold_ponyboy01: whats up connie?_

_baldisbeautiful: im making a group chat_

_baldisbeautiful: join it_

Jean didn’t have time to protest before the group chat request popped up on his laptop screen. He reluctantly accepted.

_overeaters_anonymous: hi Jean!_

_annietheleonking: woah it’s kirschtein_

_annietheleonking: i haven’t seen your dumb face since high school_

_staygold_ponyboy01: great to see you too annie_

_baldisbeautiful: ok jean we r having a group meeting_

_staygold_ponyboy01: why_

_jaegerbombs: why did you invite me to this_

_baldisbeautiful: stfu eren and help us_

_overeaters_anonymous: we need to set Jean up with Marco!_

_staygold_ponyboy01: woah woah woah_

_jaegerbombs: who the fuck is marco_

_jaegerbombs: is he that bagel guy armin talks to_

_3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693: Yes._

_staygold_ponyboy01: i never said i wanted to get set up with him_

_baldisbeautiful: ur a big gay liar_

_annietheleonking: shut up connie, you’re the only straight guy on this chat_

_jaegerbombs: im straight_

_baldisbeautiful: HA_

_annietheleonking: eren we all know the only reason you passed calculus is because you sucked the teacher’s dick_

_overeaters_anonymous: hahaha really???_

_baldisbeautiful: yup_

_jaegerbombs: STOP IT CONNIE_

_baldisbeautiful: armin walked in on them_

_3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693: Please don’t remind me of that._

_jaegerbombs: IM GOING TO STRANGLE ALL OF YOU_

_staygold_ponyboy01: fuck you guys_

_3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693: We’re just trying to help you, Jean._

_jaegerbombs: armin change your goddamn name_

_3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693: I can’t think of anything to change it to._

_jaegerbombs: CHANGE IT ANYWAY_

_|3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693 is now 3.141592653589793238462643383279  
502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609433057270365759591953092186117381932611793105118548074462379962749567351885752724891227938183011949129833673362440656643086021394946395224737190702179860943702770539217176293176752384674818467669405132000568127145263560827785771342757789609173637178721468440901224953430146549585371050792279689258923542019956112129021960864034418159813629774771309960518707211349999998372978049951059731732816096318595024459455346908302642522308253344685035261931188171010003137838752886587533208381420617177669147303598253490428755468731159562863882353787593751957781857780532171226806613001927876611195909216420198938095257201065485863278865936153381827968230301952035301852968995773622599413891249721775283479131515574857242454150695950829533116861727855.|_

_3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609433057270365759591953092186117381932611793105118548074462379962749567351885752724891227938183011949129833673362440656643086021394946395224737190702179860943702770539217176293176752384674818467669405132000568127145263560827785771342757789609173637178721468440901224953430146549585371050792279689258923542019956112129021960864034418159813629774771309960518707211349999998372978049951059731732816096318595024459455346908302642522308253344685035261931188171010003137838752886587533208381420617177669147303598253490428755468731159562863882353787593751957781857780532171226806613001927876611195909216420198938095257201065485863278865936153381827968230301952035301852968995773622599413891249721775283479131515574857242454150695950829533116861727855: is this better_

_jaegerbombs: YOURE MAKING THE CHAT LAG YOU ASSHOLE_

_|3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105559644622948954930381964428810975665933446128475648233786783165271201909145648566923460348610454326648213393607260249141273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892590360011330530548820466521384146951941511609433057270365759591953092186117381932611793105118548074462379962749567351885752724891227938183011949129833673362440656643086021394946395224737190702179860943702770539217176293176752384674818467669405132000568127145263560827785771342757789609173637178721468440901224953430146549585371050792279689258923542019956112129021960864034418159813629774771309960518707211349999998372978049951059731732816096318595024459455346908302642522308253344685035261931188171010003137838752886587533208381420617177669147303598253490428755468731159562863882353787593751957781857780532171226806613001927876611195909216420198938095257201065485863278865936153381827968230301952035301852968995773622599413891249721775283479131515574857242454150695950829533116861727855 is now armin_arlert.|_

_armin_arlert: There._

_armin_arlert: Happy?_

_baldisbeautiful: u have no creativity_

_staygold_ponyboy01: should i just leave or are you actually going to help me_

_overeaters_anonymous: AHA! you do want our help!_

_baldisbeautiful: wait lemme invite the gay experts_

_| baldisbeautiful added themanyourmancouldsmelllike |_

_| baldisbeautiful added itsmrstealyogirl |_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: hey sup_

_jaegerbombs: hey reiner_

_jaegerbombs: apparently we need to set jean up with some guy_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: woah_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: hasnt he been single since middle school_

_itsmrstealyogirl: HAHAHA OH MY GOD_

_itmrstealyogirl: WHAT A LOSER_

_armin_arlert: Don’t make fun of him for what he can’t control!_

_staygold_ponyboy01: FUCK YOU YMIR_

_staygold_ponyboy01: AND FUCK YOU TOO ARMIN_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: dude just ask the guy on a date_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: its not that hard_

_annietheleonking: if he wants to ask him on a date it’s probably pretty hard actually_

_staygold_ponyboy01: NO_

_jaegerbombs: ANNIE STOP IT I DO NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT JEAN’S TALLYWHACKER_

_itsmrstealyogirl: HOLY SHIT_

_itsmrstealyogirl: TALLYWHACKER_

_baldisbeautiful: eren you are a grown man_

_baldisbeautiful: you need to call it by its proper name_

_overeaters_anonymous: dingaling?_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: pole rocket?_

_annietheleonking: tonsil tickler?_

_itsmrstealyogirl: mini twinkie?_

_baldisbeautiful: one-eyed wonder worm_

_staygold_ponyboy01: STOP NICKNAMING MY DICK YOU FARTKNOCKERS_

_armin_arlert: Why do you invite me to these chats?_

_jaegerbombs: armin you should leave while you still can_

_armin_arlert: Okay, then._

_| armin_arlert has left the chat. |_

_jaegerbombs: i might as well leave too_

_jaegerbombs: mikasa says hi btw_

_staygold_ponyboy01: hi_

_jaegerbombs: good luck with your date jean_

_jaegerbombs: not_

_| jaegerbombs has left the chat. |_

_staygold_ponyboy01: are you gonna give me any legitimate advice or is this pointless_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: well, what are you nervous about?_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i dont know im just not good at making decisions_

_staygold_ponyboy01: you guys wouldnt understand_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: i know somebody who does!_

_| themanyourmancouldsmelllike added reiner_is_a_studmuffin |_

_itsmrstealyogirl: bertie!_

_baldisbeautiful: the giraffe prince is here at last!_

_annietheleonking: hey bertl_

_overeaters_anonymous: hi Bertholdt! i didn’t know you had a Skype!_

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: Reiner made it for me._

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: He chose the name, and I don’t know how to change it._

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: Please help._

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: i think its perfect_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i need some advice bert_

_staygold_ponyboy01: theres this guy_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i just met him the other day but i like him and i want to ask him out or something but thats really hard to do and none of these assholes are helping me so i figured you knew how i was feeling_

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: Oh, so you like Marco._

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: You came to my bookstore together. Doesn’t that count as a date?_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i dont think he thought of it that way_

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: It didn’t seem that way to me._

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: Ask him to see a movie with you. It doesn’t have to be romantic. If you enjoy it, keep going out together. Something will come of it._

_staygold_ponyboy01: bert youre a miracle_

_staygold_ponyboy01: thank you so much_

_reiner_is_a_studmuffin: You’re welcome._

Jean exited the chat and sighed, collapsing onto his back on the couch. He could receive the best advice in the world and still not have the courage to follow it.

He was hopeless.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in a while! I've gotten into the swing of things at school by now, so I'll be posting more often.

For the second day in a row, Jean was rudely awakened by Skype.

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: jean_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: horse face_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: i know youre there_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: respond goddammit_

Jean smacked his palm against his forehead. The man didn’t know when to shut up.

_staygold_ponyboy01: what the fuck do you want_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: finally_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: im having a party this friday_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: you need to come_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: we havent hung out with you in like 5 years_

_staygold_ponyboy01: “we”?_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: you know_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: our friend group_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: me, bert, annie, etc_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: you should bring marco_

_staygold_ponyboy01: no_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: ugh fine. just come alone then_

_staygold_ponyboy01: no_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: dude why_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i don’t know if you remember high school but me and extended periods of social interaction don’t really go hand in hand_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: thats a huge understatement lmao_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: you are the most boring person in existence_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i will gladly accept that honor_

_staygold_ponyboy01: i have to go to work now so stop harassing me_

_themanyourmancouldsmelllike: see ya loser_

 

~ ~ ~

 

Jean went straight to Marco’s shop after work. He told himself that it wasn’t because he was _desperate_ to see Marco or anything, he just didn’t have anything better to do. He wasn’t quite convinced about that, but it was his well-practiced response for when (and if) anyone asked.

When Marco saw Jean, his face broke into a large grin. “Hi, Jean!”

Jean smiled back and walked up to the counter. “Hey.”

Marco leaned against the smooth counter top, looking at Jean with his eyes nearly _sparkling_. “Guess what?” 

Jean narrowed his eyes and tried to think of what Marco was so happy about.

“Bertholdt invited me to a party, and he says that you can come too! It’s at his friend’s house, I think her name is Annie? Anyway, it’s on Friday, and it starts at nine. You can come, right?” Marco looked excited, but still hesitant, like he expected to be shot down.

Jean went into panic mode for a moment. He didn’t want to be rude and say no, especially because it seemed like Marco was expecting him to. On the contrary, he did _not_ want to go to a party, one that would definitely have excessive alcohol, with Marco. They still barely knew each other, and Jean didn't put it past Reiner or any of his other friends to reveal some humiliating story from high school.

He ultimately decided that a lifetime of embarrassment and the possible loss of a friend were a lot worse than coming off as antisocial.

“I can’t, sorry,” he said, as gently as possible. Marco’s face fell a bit, but he brushed off Jean’s apology. 

“It’s okay. I didn’t know if you liked parties, so I figured I’d just ask.”

Jean suddenly felt like a total asshole. Marco was just too _nice_.

“You can certainly go without me,” Jean commented.

Marco shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I will. Call me if you change your mind, though.” 

Jean felt a sting of guilt, but the threat of mortification kept him from reevaluating his decision. He kept up a simple discussion with Marco, mostly about their friends and how strange it was that they hadn’t met before. After all, they lived so close together and had similar interests. Jean chalked it up to the size of the city.

The conversation began to drag on after a little while. Jean excused himself as politely as he could, before he said something else stupid. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he called out as he pushed the door open.

“Bye!” Marco replied, seemingly unfazed by Jean’s sudden departure.

Once he was out on the sidewalk, he groaned loudly. His frustration with himself was increasing by the day.

Marco was cute, and nice, and social; pretty much everything that Jean wasn’t. They were just barely becoming friends, and Jean was already close to ruining it. How could he _possibly_ expect to get something more out of their already-fragile relationship? 

Jean realized that he’d been going too fast, with everything, and his time with Marco was a blur despite how little time it was. If he wanted to salvage their friendship, something would have to change.

His stomach growled angrily, interrupting his thoughts. He was about to turn back and buy a bagel from Marco, but realized that he would look foolish. There were plenty of places to eat on that street, anyway. He settled for a fast food place.

He just barely made the bus back to his apartment, bag of french fries in hand. He scarfed them down during the ride, much to the distaste of the person sitting next to him.

After he got off the bus, he threw the empty bag in the garbage can in the lobby of his apartment building. The elevator was crowded, and he really wasn’t in the mood for forced interaction with people he worked so hard to ignore, so he begrudgingly headed towards the stairs.

In a split-second decision, he stopped at the fourth floor instead of walking the rest of the way up to the tenth. He prayed that Armin was there as he walked down the hallway towards number 409.

Thankfully, Armin answered on the third knock. He still looked sick, but a bit less so, and seemed happy that Jean was visiting.

“Sorry to bother you,” Jean began after he collapsed onto the couch. “I have a, uh, _situation_ going on.”

“It’s not a problem,” Armin replied breezily, seating himself beside Jean. “What kind of situation?”

Jean covered his face with both hands, making his reply a bit muffled. “A crush situation.”

Armin laughed. “I might be able to help. I assume that it’s Marco you’re talking about?”

“It’s that obvious?” Jean griped. Armin nodded sympathetically.

“Well, Bertholdt gave me some advice after you left that group chat the other day,” Jean continued. “And it was good advice, don’t get me wrong, but I’m having difficulty following it. He told me to keep hanging out with him, and see where things go from there. But I can barely even say _hello_ to him, let alone ask him to get together. And when we do, I can’t think of anything to talk about. He’s just so _nice_ , I don’t deserve to talk to him. But I would look like a jerk if I ignored him, so-“

“Jean,” Armin interrupted. “Calm down.”

Jean sighed, loudly and drawn-out. “What do I do?”

“I hope you’re not expecting a miracle, because I can’t do that for you,” Armin said with a loud sniffle. “You have to make a decision for yourself. One that will change your relationship with him, for better or for worse. Remember that he’s making an effort, too. A good place to start is being honest with him.”

“Easier said than done,” Jean muttered. “You have to take into account that I’m not good at communication, honesty included.”

There was a hint of exasperation in Armin’s tone. “Nobody can do anything about that but you.”

“You’re right, obviously, but I just don’t know how to fix that,” Jean said desperately. “A miracle is probably the only thing that can work at this point.”

Armin shushed him softly. “I could talk to Marco for you. If that would make things easier.”

“That would be great, actually.” Jean hid his face in his hands again. “Seriously, I don’t deserve people like you.”

“Don’t say that,” Armin said, patting his shoulder somewhat awkwardly.

Jean huffed. “I really don’t though. I ignored you for years and now you’re helping me like it’s nothing.”

Armin laughed, startling Jean so much that he lifted his head from his hands. 

“It’s called _friendship_ , Jean. I don’t know what kinds of people you’ve been exposed to since I last saw you, but I haven’t changed. Neither have the rest of our friends.” Armin smiled brightly. “We like you. None of us are gonna focus on your mistakes as much as you do. So just try to remember that, okay? Put a little trust in me.”

Jean blinked slowly, trying to process what Armin had just said.

He could have sworn that those were the most comforting words he’d ever heard in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have i mentioned how much i love armin


End file.
